mhalachai | FIC: Inevitable 37: Too Loud To Hear

Yay! A chapter, just in time for my American readers to read on holiday. ~~I'll be posting it at the usual haunts after I get back from my various meetings tonight.~~ Up all over the interweb. Please comment, tell me what you think! I will love you forever.

Inevitable Thirty-seven: Too Loud To Hear
by Mhalachai

~~~~~~~

The early morning sun was bright in my eyes as I drove home from Richard's place. Yes, I had stayed over, and yes, we'd had sex, but we'd done something we hadn't in a very long time. We talked. About the werewolves, about Jean-Claude, about Harry... and finally, about us.

There was no screaming, no yelling or accusations or anything. Caught in the sleepy unreality of waking, I'd told him things I'd been meaning to say for years, but had never had the guts to tell him. He'd listened, miracle of miracles, but then after I was done, he held me close until the sun came up and I had to leave.

The drive through my neighbourhood was quiet, too early for the downtown commuters to be on their way to work. The sunlight left the colours so vibrant, it almost hurt my eyes. As much as the night with Richard had been exactly what I needed, now all I wanted to do was to cuddle up to Nathaniel and Micah and sleep for a few hours. It used to weird me out that both my guys were fine with the idea that I'd come home from having sex with Richard and want to slip into bed with them, but I'd gotten pretty good at ignoring my own misgivings.

I slowed the jeep, and turned into my driveway. I slipped the transmission into park, then relaxed against the car seat, staring at the light paint on the front of the garage. Something Richard had said last night kept running through my mind. He was worried that by introducing Harry to the pack, wanting him to be vargamour, that he'd somehow put the teenager in more danger. I hadn't pointed out that I'd said exactly that, the day after Harry was injured, which I think gave me several brownie points. I had, however, reminded Richard that a lot of the problems we'd been through in the last two weeks were directly related to Harry's problems, not ours.

Richard told me that they were our problems now. I didn't disagree. We'd left the topic of Harry behind at that point.

As I was unbuckling my seatbelt, something occurred to me, and I swore out loud. I had forgotten to tell Richard that I was taking Harry to England at the end of the month. No matter what this new and improved Richard thought, I just knew he wasn't going to be happy with me on this.

"Goddamn it," I muttered as I got out of my car. Slamming the door, I was about to head into the house when Micah's car turned into the driveway and parked behind my car.

I frowned. Why was Micah out so early? He didn't call me, so it must not be a pard problem. I watched as Micah climbed out of the car, looking exhausted. He slammed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it, and walked over to me.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Instead of answering, Micah put his arms around my body in a hug, and rested his head on my shoulder. "Nothing's wrong," he said softly. "Just a long night."

I hugged him back, feeling part of me relax at his touch. "Coalition stuff?"

I felt him nod. "One of the werebears was in an industrial accident at work, and he started healing too fast at the hospital." Micah's hands slid down my back to rest against my hips. "His co-workers were there, and a couple of them flipped when the nurse let it slip that he was a lycanthrope. Steve needed someone to talk them down."

"Steve the werebear?" I asked. Then I giggled.

Micah pulled back, a question on his face. I couldn't help it. I just couldn't stop giggling.

"Steve the werebear," I said again. "You know? Like the Care Bears?"

Micah shook his head at me. "You've been up too long," he said in mock irritation. "To bed with thee."

We walked up the path toward the house, hand in hand like teenagers. I finally managed to bring my juvenile giggling under control when we got to the front door.

The faint sound of the television was the only noise in the house. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed," Micah said, tiredly.

"I'll meet you there," I promised. "I'm just going to check on whoever's in the living room first."

Micah squeezed my hand gently, and stepped closer to me. Ever so gently, he brushed his lips against mine. "Don't be long," he whispered when he pulled back.

I couldn't say anything as Micah walked down the hall toward the bathroom. Only when he vanished from my sight did I pull myself back together. How did Micah's kisses always affect me so much? I wondered. I never expected it, but then there he was, lips on mine, and I just melted.

I could kiss Micah again soon, I promised myself, once I said hello to whoever was in the living room. Kicking off my heels, I walked noiselessly into the room.

I couldn't help it. I smiled. Harry was sprawled on the couch, deeply asleep. Nathaniel lay curled up into a ball on the floor by the foot of the sofa, head cushioned by one of the couch pillows. The television was on, volume low, showing an early morning news show. Video cases were strewn over the floor, next to a couple of empty popcorn bowls. Looks like these two at least had a fun night.

I knelt on the carpet beside Nathaniel, stroking his hair until finally he stirred. He opened his eyes lazily to see me, then closed them and lifted his head to my lap, so that now I was his pillow. He made a contented sound deep in this throat as he rubbed his cheek against my thigh.

"Why are you out here?" I whispered.

Nathaniel opened one eye a tiny crack. "The bed was cold," he murmured. "Harry was watching movies when I got home."

"I can see that," I said, pulling the tie in his hair loose, so I could run my fingers through that thick auburn hair. "When did you guys fall asleep?"

"Just before sunrise," Nathaniel told me. "We talked and stuff, too."

"Good." As I looked at Nathaniel, safe and happy curled up around me like this, I started thinking about what Edward had told me, about Olaf. If Olaf came after me, what would happen to Nathaniel? Would he get in the way? Would Olaf go after him first? What would happen to him, if something happened to me?

Nathaniel opened both eyes and stared up at me. "Is something wrong?" he asked, suddenly alert.

I didn't tell him about Olaf. Not yet. "Just a long night," I said with an attempt at a reassuring smile. "Maybe we'll talk about it later. Do you want to go to bed? Micah's just in the shower now."

"Are you going to come too?" Nathaniel asked, sitting up. I nodded. Slowly, Nathaniel leaned in, until his lips were hovering over mine. "Good," he said, the word moving his lips over mine, and I kissed him. The kiss was more of a promise, and when Nathaniel pulled back, his eyes were shining.

"Don't the two of you have a room around here or something?" Harry's voice, thick with sleep, sounded from the couch. Nathaniel and I turned to look at him as he struggled into an upright position.

Nathaniel laughed. "You're just grumpy because you didn't get any sleep," he said.

Harry groaned as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "What time is it?"

"Too damned early," I said. "We're going to bed, you should too." I looked around the room. "Unless you want to watch more TV."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm done with television," he swore, standing unsteadily. "I'll see you lot in a bit."

After Harry stumbled toward the stairs, I stood, then helped Nathaniel up. After I double-checked that the front door was bolted, I led the way to the bedroom. Micah was already out of the shower and lying in bed. He blinked lazily at Nathaniel and I, as if he was too tired to do anything else.

Nathaniel stripped off his clothes with a practiced ease on his way to the bed, and was under the sheet in a matter of seconds. I smiled at him, then undid the button of my jacket. I had to undo my belt to remove the shoulder holster, and laid the Browning on top of the dresser. The Firestar, a smaller gun, was in an inner-pants holster, and that went beside the Browning.

As I pushed off my skirt, Nathaniel said, "Aren't you going to put the Firestar in the gun safe upstairs?"

My fingers slowed on the buttons of my shirt. I stared at the guns as I answered. "Not today."

"Why not?" Nathaniel asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Micah sit up.

The truth was, if Olaf came for me, I didn't want to rely on only one gun to stop him. Nathaniel knew how to fire a gun, so if it came down to that, we'd have two shooters.

I stopped. Olaf probably wasn't in town. Edward would have at least heard about that, right? I wasn't going to be attacked in my own home.

Micah, who must have gotten out of bed while I was thinking, put his hands on my arms and turned me to face him. "Is something happening?" he asked, the fatigue in his face chased back for a moment.

I let out a tired sigh. I was sick of all this shit in my life. Potentially obsessed serial killers, psychopaths raising their dead wives, just pain piled upon pain. Micah's hands were a comfort on my skin, but I just wanted to curl up against him and pretend that this wasn't my life. "I talked to Edward yesterday," I said.

Comprehension lit up his eyes. Micah had met Edward once, late last winter. Once was enough. "Bad things?"

"Maybe." I closed my eyes briefly. "Probably not."

"Then why the guns?"

"Because it would be a hell of a thing to get wrong," I said. I shook my head. "Can we not talk about this now? I just want to get some sleep."

Micah stared at me for a long moment, then helped me out of my clothes. His touch usually excited me, but I was too worn out for that today. When I was finally naked, I picked up both of my guns and carried them to the bed. The Browning went into its holster on the headboard, and I put the Firestar on the bedside table within easy reach. I was more than half-tempted to put the smaller gun under my pillow, but honestly, if Olaf came through that door, he'd already be armed.

Once I was lying down, Nathaniel scooted back so I was spooning him in the curve of my body. I wrapped my arm tight around his chest, feeling him warm and soft and alive against me. Micah curled around me from the back, so I was pressed between them. I should have felt safe, but didn't.

It was all so complicated. Edward and Olaf, Nigel Spencer, Harry... all the crazy threads of my life. I hated not being in control, or at least not having the semblance of control over my life. Not that I didn't want Harry around, but he just complicated things so much.

Micah brushed the hair back from my face and kissed my neck. "Get some sleep, and we'll figure everything out when we get up," he whispered.

I hugged Nathaniel tighter and buried my face in his long hair. As sleep sucked me down, for the first time I wondered if someday, I would lose all of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"... and so the place is full of people, and I think the Dursleys were trying to lose me for old times sake, which wasn't going to happen." Harry paused in his tale, of travelling with the Dursleys through Heathrow Airport, to swallow the remainder of his late lunch, just as Nathaniel pulled his plate off the table. "I mean, Dudley kept trying to hide behind people, but there was too much of him to hide."

"He really was very large," Anita said when Micah raised his eyebrows. "It can't be healthy for him."

Harry toyed with his glass. "I hadn't thought of that," he said after a moment.

Anita sipped at her coffee. "He always got everything he wanted, right?"

Harry nodded. He was surprised that, after so many years, talking about the Dursleys didn't seem to bother him. It didn't mean anything, he realized. He'd never see them again.

"What we want and what we need aren't necessarily the same thing," Anita continued. She shook her head, loose black curls falling over her shoulders. "But they didn't leave you behind, right?"

"Nope." Harry stood up and handed his glass to Nathaniel at the sink. "I even got the window seat on the plane because Dudley wouldn't fit into the seat. That was pretty neat." He noticed that Anita shuddered. "What?"

"I don't like flying," she said, voice clipped.

"Really?" Harry asked. He couldn't fathom not liking flying. "Riding in the plane was nowhere near as exciting as flying on a broom."

Anita's eyes grew huge. "Broom? Without like a net or anything?"

Micah grinned at her, then covered his mouth with his hand when she glared at him.

"Don't say it," she threatened, getting to her feet and heading for the coffee pot.

"I didn't say a thing," Micah said, still smiling.

"Uh huh." Anita sipped at her coffee, then put the cup down beside the refrigerator. "Do we have any cream?"

"Yes," Nathaniel said, still elbow deep in suds. "Third shelf."

"Thanks," Anita said from the depths of the fridge. She extracted herself from the icebox, jug of cream in one hand. "What would I do without you?"

Nathaniel smiled softly and looked down at the sink.

"Speaking of which, do you want to come to England with me?" Anita asked, her back to Nathaniel.

From his place, perched on the edge of the kitchen island, Harry watched as the smile on Nathaniel's face slid away. The wereleopard's entire body went still, like a rabbit trying to hide from danger.

"It's only for a couple of days," Anita went on blithely, setting down the creamer. "I'm sure that Jean-Claude will let you off work..." Her voice trailed off as she turned around and saw Nathaniel's face.

Nathaniel swallowed hard. The sound seemed loud in the suddenly silent room. "They don't let people like me into England," he said softly.

"What are you talking about, people like you?" Anita demanded.

Deliberately, Nathaniel picked a plate out of the sink and rinsed it off. "Don't you remember that I told you I used to do heroin when I was on the streets?" His voice held a sharp edge, a small sound, but Harry's heart was pounding so hard in his chest it hurt.

Anita licked her lips. "Yes, but--"

Nathaniel dropped the plate in the drying rack with a clatter and put his hands on the edge of the sink. "I got picked up when I was thirteen," he said, staring out the window. "The cops picked me up when they arrested one of my johns, threw me into the holding cells at the police station for possession. That's a felony offence."

Anita stared at Nathaniel, pale. Harry wondered if she'd known that before. She couldn't have, not with the way she was looking at Nathaniel. In these few weeks, Harry had learned how much Anita disliked drugs and prostitution, two things that had been such a large part of Nathaniel's former life. But she wouldn't take that to heart. Would she?

Anita took a step toward Nathaniel, who was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She put on a brave face. "Are you talking about that stupid law, where Britain won't let any lycanthrope with a felony offence into the country?" she asked. "That wouldn't matter, juvenile records are sealed to that."

Micah cleared his throat, startling Harry. "Not if the lycanthrope is outed as a juvenile," he said. He smiled unhappily. "The juvenile records are wide open then, and it goes on your passport record."

Anita looked between Micah and Nathaniel, then closed the distance between her and Nathaniel, placing her hand on his shoulder. The man let out a breath and relaxed, slumping against the counter. How much had it cost Nathaniel to tell Anita that about himself? Harry wondered. What had he thought she was going to do when she found out?

Anita laid a kiss on Nathaniel's neck, then rested her head against his shoulder. "I wish you could have come with me," she said, sounding disappointed.

"Me too." Nathaniel drained the sink. "When I was a little kid, I always wanted to go to England and stuff. I think my grandmother was from there." He reached up and squeezed Anita's hand, dripping suds on the floor. "Thanks for wanting me to go with you."

"Of course I want you to go," Anita said, although she looked rather surprised to say the words.

Micah stood up, pushing his hair back. "I can't go, either."

Anita stood back so fast that Harry was worried she would hit her head on the fridge. "What, do you have a drug conviction out there you're not telling me about?" she demanded.

"No," Micah hurried to say. "No, nothing like that. I haven't even had a speeding ticket." Then he paused. "Except that once."

"So why can't you come?"

"Because, Anita, if you're leaving the country, someone's going to need to be here for the pard," Micah explained. "If it was just to another county or state, I could leave Merle in charge, but I don't want to risk it."

Anita still looked suspicious, but nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Harry said, "But then what are you going to do?"

"About what?" Anita asked.

Harry tried very hard not to blush, but he couldn't help the heat that began to climb to his cheeks. "If neither Micah or Nathaniel can go with us to England, who are you going to feed the arduer on?"

Anita blinked. "I..." She turned to Micah, a confused expression on her face. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You should talk to Jean-Claude," Nathaniel said, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"Why?"

Nathaniel and Micah exchanged a glance. "If he's planning this trip the way he plans everything else, he's probably thought about this too," Nathaniel said.

Anita's eyes grew huge. "He wouldn't..." she started to say, then snapped her mouth shut. Without looking at Harry, she stalked out of the kitchen. A moment later, a door slammed somewhere in the house.

Harry winced. "She's in a fine temper," he muttered.

Micah sighed, exchanging another glance with Nathaniel. "That went better than I expected," Micah said. Picking up Anita's coffee cup, Micah took a sip. "Anyway. Harry, what are you doing this afternoon?"

With a shrug, Harry said, "Nothing special. Nathaniel and I were going to go for a run later on, I think." Nathaniel nodded in agreement. "Why?"

"How much do you know about self defence?" Micah asked.

"A bit," Harry said slowly. "Mostly with my magic and stuff..." His voice trailed off when he saw Micah shaking his head.

"I mean hand to hand," Micah clarified. "Not much, I suppose." Harry shook his head. "How would you feel about having Merle show you a bit about how to fight?"

Harry wasn't sure what to think. "Should I bother him? I mean, he's a wereleopard..." Harry realized what it must sound like, and he hurried to clarify. "It's not that I don't like wereleopards, but shouldn't one of the werewolves be showing me stuff like that?"

"Maybe, but I can't ask them to do something without potentially causing a scene," Micah said. Harry wondered if that was a wereleopard thing, or a Richard and Micah thing. "Merle is very good at street fighting, it'd be good to know."

"And he doesn't fight fair," Nathaniel added.

Harry frowned. "That's a good thing?"

Nathaniel glanced at Micah, who nodded, before answering. "How often do you get into fist fights back home?" he asked.

"Not often, only if we lose our wands," Harry said, only realizing after he spoke that this was what Nathaniel probably meant.

"So it's not really a fair fight then, is it?" Nathaniel suddenly seemed a whole lot older than Harry. "Anita and Richard are always going to want to fight fair, but it's not always like that. If you're fighting to win, sometimes you can't fight by the rules."

Harry couldn't argue with Nathaniel's logic, but it felt wrong. Gryffindors were supposed to fight fair, weren't they?

All that's good for these days is dying, Harry reminded himself. Death Eaters didn't fight fair, and neither did the Ministry of Magic.

More than a little bit disturbed, Harry asked, "What kinds of things would Merle show me?"

"Things that might help you stay alive." Micah leaned back against the counter. "That's the point, isn't it? To be able to protect yourself?"

Without looking at his friend, Harry knew Nathaniel's eyes were on him. "I suppose," he muttered.

Micah shook his head. "Don't let Anita hear you talking like that," he instructed.

Harry turned his head, and met Nathaniel's gaze. "Yeah, she'd probably shoot me or something," he said. To his relief, Nathaniel smiled slightly, and set about putting the dishes in the cupboard.

Great, Harry thought. All I need to do now is to survive Merle's lesson too. He couldn't help but wonder if somewhere, the fates were laughing at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't meet anyone on my way down the Circus stairs, which was probably for the best. I'd tried reaching Jean-Claude mentally, earlier in the day, but he had walled the marks between us up tight. When I finally called the Circus, Jason had told me that Jean-Claude was indisposed.

Indisposed, my ass. The bastard was avoiding me.

The door was unlocked, and I swung it open. It was almost sunset, and the living room was empty. In half an hour, the place would be come back to life, all the vampires and lycanthropes who lived under the Circus getting ready for the night, but now, the place was quiet.

Even with Jean-Claude shielding from me, I suspected that he was in his bedroom. Walking down the cool stone corridors didn't abate my anger, however. I was angry at Jean-Claude for not consulting me about who I'd be taking to England to feed the ardeur. Nathaniel was right, this was not something Jean-Claude would have failed to plan.

Reaching Jean-Claude's bedroom door, I pounded once on the heavy wood, then pushed open the door.

"Jean-Claude, what the hell do you think you're--" I started to say, but stopped quickly when I saw Richard sitting on Jean-Claude's bed. Richard glowered at me, and for the life of me, I didn't know why.

"Ah, ma petite," Jean-Claude said, walking elegantly around the edge of the bed. They were both fully dressed, but Richard's placement puzzled me. Unless I was somehow in the mix, Richard never, ever, lounged around on Jean-Claude's bed.

"What's going on?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"We were waiting for you, of course," Jean-Claude said smoothly. Richard's frown deepened. "Merely for a discussion, of course."

"If it's for a discussion, then why does Richard look so pissed off at me?" I demanded.

Jean-Claude strode around me to close the door, his nearness sending a shiver through me, tightening things low in my body. I stepped away. I was in no mood for a seduction tonight. "Perhaps you should ask him, ma petite."

"When the hell were you planning on telling me about this harebrained scheme to go to England?" Richard asked, springing up off the bed.

"I wasn't hiding it, if that's what you mean," I shot back. "I just forgot to tell you."

"Forgot?" Richard exclaimed. "We spent over an hour last night talking about Harry specifically! How the hell did that just slip your mind?"

"Don't talk to me like that!" I crossed my arms over my chest. "You know what happened to me yesterday, what I went through, why are you insisting on making this all about you?"

"I'm not!" Richard raked his hands through his hair, like he always did when he was frustrated. "This is about you 'forgetting' to tell me something that could seriously impact the whole pack!"

Jean-Claude stepped between us, his hands held out. "Please, stop this," he said mildly. "We have much to discuss and this argument will get you nowhere."

I breathed in through my nose, trying to calm myself. Jean-Claude was right. Getting mad at Richard wouldn't serve any purpose. I'd come in here angry at Jean-Claude, and I wanted to stay that way.

"Merci." Jean-Claude dropped his hands. "Ma petite, Jason said you called earlier today?"

I glared at him. "Just how much of this trip have you planned, anyway?" I demanded.

He put on his innocent face. "Certain aspects," he admitted. "Is there something in particular that you are wondering about?"

I should have known he wasn't going to make this easy. I tried to come up with some smooth way of asking my question, then thought, screw it. "Who are you planning to send with me to feed the arduer?"

"Why, can't make up your mind?" Richard said sarcastically.

I whipped my head around, and only kept my mouth shut with much difficulty. I so wasn't going to tell Richard what Nathaniel had told me, earlier, about why he couldn't go with me. It was none of Richard's goddamned business. "I'm sure Jean-Claude has someone in mind," I told Richard as scathingly as I could.

Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow at me. "Indeed, ma petite, I do," he said carefully. "Would you care to sit?" He motioned toward the bed.

"Just tell me," I said, suddenly tired of this. "Who is it?"

Jean-Claude nodded every so slightly. "You will most likely be gone for three days," he explained. "In the interests of not overtaxing anyone, I suggest taking two individuals with you, in addition to Harry."

I stared at him. "Who?"

Jean-Claude looked behind me, just as the door opened. I twisted my head around as Jason walked into the room, a questioning expression on his face. "Hi, Anita," he said.

I whirled on Jean-Claude. "You have got to be kidding!" I said. "You want me to take Jason? Who else? Stephen?"

Jean-Claude shook his head. I heard someone else enter the room, and looked over as Requiem closed the door behind him. Now I was truly confused. I'd fed the ardeur with Requiem before, but he certainly wasn't someone I'd have chosen to fly overseas with. Requiem bowed to me, his face carefully blank.

"Ma petite, do not think I have made this choice lightly," Jean-Claude said, walking around me to place his hands on Jason's shoulders.

"Don't I get a say in this?" I asked, too perplexed to regain my annoyance.

Jean-Claude gave Jason a slight push, and the young werewolf bounded over to the bed. "This choice is as political as it is practical," Jean-Claude said, so serious. "Requiem was a part of the London court for a very long time. While the Master has changed, Requiem's influence will still be invaluable."

Requiem took a small step forward. "I know much about the court, and will be best able to read the moods of our host," he said.

I didn't know what to say about this. I got along with Requiem just fine, but the whole concept was just weirding me out. "What about Jason?" I asked.

Jean-Claude smoothed his hands over his shirt, a nervous gesture. "Sending my pomme de sang with you, ma petite, is a sign of how highly I value you," he said after a moment. "More than a human servant. By sending Jason, I demonstrate to Christoff that I consider you an equal."

"Great, but then why is Richard so pissed?" I asked.

Richard shook his head. "I'm not pissed," he told me.

"You so totally are," I contradicted. "What is it?" I looked between Richard and Jean-Claude. "It can't be that you wanted to go with me, you've got school and stuff."

Jean-Claude stepped in front of me, but didn't try to touch me. "It is because of what else I will require Jason to do, in London," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my eyes flying to Jason. Yes, he was a stripper, and he fed the vamps on a regular basis, both things that annoyed Richard, but the one thing that really bugged Richard about Jean-Claude and his kind of vampire was... "You can't be serious."

"Serious about what?" Jean-Claude asked, a warning in his eyes.

Quickly, I tried to pull back from what I'd almost implied about Jason. "Nothing," I said quickly. "What are you going to want Jason to do in England?"

Instead of answering me, Jean-Claude looked at Jason, and motioned toward the door. Jason slid off the bed and headed wordlessly out of the room, tossing a smile at me on his way, which only made me feel worse. Jason wasn't fooled about what I'd thought, but it didn't bother him. Requiem left after Jason, closing the door tightly.

Jean-Claude turned away and walked across the room. "Sending my human servant into the city of another Master, particularly as one as powerful as Christoff, is always dangerous," he said, not looking at me. "Sending you with Harry will only increase the danger. If you are accompanied by my pomme de sang and my third-in-command, I still cannot guarantee your safety."

I swallowed hard. "But you're not saying no, so it's probably okay, right?"

Jean-Claude threw up his hands. "Probability is a poor thing to rely upon for your life!" he spat, his eyes glowing solid blue with emotion. "I have no doubt of your ability to protect yourself, ma petite, but if things go wrong, Jason and Requiem have another task, and that is to protect you at all costs."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not going to happen."

"Yes, it is!" Jean-Claude was suddenly in front of me, skin lit with power from within. "You are their priority, above all others."

"I'm Jason's Lupa!" I shouted. "I'm supposed to protect him, not the other way around!"

"This is not open for discussion!" Jean-Claude exclaimed. "I cannot leave this city, and since you insisted on going to England, this is the only way I will be able to protect you!"

"Fuck this! We just won't see Christoff, then."

The glow left Jean-Claude's face, but in its place came a slightly self-mocking expression that I'd grown to dread. "It is too late for that, ma petite."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Christoff knows you are coming. He knows you will travel with Harry Potter, and of Harry's connection to our triumvirate through Damian," Jean-Claude said. "If you go to London and do not see him, he will be within his rights to slaughter you."

The words ringing in my ears, I just stared at him. "What will happen if Harry goes alone?" I asked when I was able to speak.

"Then Harry will die." Jean-Claude shrugged. "Or perhaps the wizards will rise up against Christoff and start a war. Christoff loathes magical humans, Anita. If he can use Harry Potter's presence as an excuse to kill these humans, he will."

"So we're fucked if we do, and fucked if we don't," I said bitterly.

"It would appear so."

I looked past Jean-Claude to Richard. "Do you have anything to say?"

Richard wouldn't look at me. "If Jason can protect you, at any cost, he will," he said.

"You son of a bitch," I said, not sure which of them I was talking to. Without another word, I turned my back on them and walked out of the room.

Jason's bedroom door was open when I made it down the hall, and he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He looked up as I entered, as if he had been expecting me. "I guess they told you."

"What, that you're suddenly cannon fodder?" I said. "Did they even ask you?"

"Yeah, they asked me." Jason met my gaze unflinching, nothing submissive about him now. "You're one of my best friends, Anita. You know I'd do anything to help you. And Harry, too."

I'd have felt better if he had told me that it hadn't been his choice. "Since when are you so self-sacrificing?"

He didn't flinch at the ice in my voice. "I was wondering that, too." He stood in a fluid motion. "Anita, I'm serious about this. If I can help you, protect you, even a little, I'm in."

"You could die."

"We're all going to die someday," Jason pointed out. "May as well go out doing something worthwhile."

I left. Everyone in my life had gone fucking insane. I didn't encounter anyone on my way out of the Circus, which was probably for the best. My head was empty as I climbed into my jeep and turned on the air conditioning. The sun was setting, off in the distance, on another perfect St. Louis day.

I hated it when Jean-Claude did shit like this, plotting without letting me have a choice. I hated that Richard and Jason were going along with it. Under it all, though, I wondered if Jean-Claude was mad at me, for putting him in the position where he might have to sacrifice Jason to protect me.

I was supposed to protect my people. Jason was mine. It was against everything I believed in to let him throw himself in front of me in a fight. Unbidden, an image of Clay came to me, lying dead in the woods after he had jumped in front of Bellatrix's killing magic. I imagined it was Jason, dead on the forest floor, and I felt sick to my stomach.

My cell phone rang, loud in the enclosed space in the car, and I jumped. I dug out the cell phone and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Anita, hi," Zerbrowski said. "What are you doing?"

"Why?" I asked. "Is something wrong with the magic people?"

"No, thank God," Zerbrowski said. "Dolph wanted me to tell you we got a cremation order for Elaine Spencer, and that's already taken care of. But right now, we've got a crime scene out near the county line. Are you able to get out here?"

"What kind of crime scene?"

"Someone was shot," Zerbrowski explained. "But there's all kinds of stuff out here, preternatural artifacts and the like. Some of it might be why our victim was killed, and you've got the most background in preternaturally biology."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Have you ever seen a dragon skull?" Zerbrowski asked.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Someone in town has a dragon skull? That's like one of the most expensive things on the preternatural black market."

"I know," Zerbrowski said. "Or are you too busy with your boring old zombies to play with the big boys tonight?"

I ignored the jibe. "Where are you?" He told me, and I quickly scrawled the address down on a takeout napkin. "I'll be right over," I said, hanging up on Zerbrowski mid-sentence.

Putting the car into gear, I paused before I took my foot off the brake. There was a hell of a lot I should be dealing with. Harry, Olaf, the mess of going to England. But all of those things involved dealing with Jean-Claude, and I really didn't trust myself around him right now.

Taking a deep breath, I reversed out of my parking space. Maybe some old-fashioned police work might help me figure out what the hell I was going to do with the mess I'd gotten us all in.

...tbc

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

From:

morgie.livejournal.com

A happy Morgie is a Morgie reading fanfic! Poor, poor Anita. One step forward, two steps back, and a tumble down the stairs.

And in other words, a possible typo?

What we want and what we need aren't necessarily the same thing," Anita continued. She shook her head, loose black curls falling over her shoulders. "But they didn't leave you behind you, right?"

From:

mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com

Thanks for the error note. I'm horrible about this stuff. Look at a line too long, and anything will make sense.

Glad you liked it!

From:

sabriel-0405.livejournal.com

Wow. On many fronts. I had read the teaser before and liked it. But the whole chapter? One of your best. I think I've said that a lot but each chapter seems to touch on the characters more deeply. I love that Jason and Requiem are Jean-Claude's choices. How angry Anita is that Jason is willing to give up his life for her, even though we know Anita would sooner put herself in harm's way than allow that to happen. Great reasons to have Nathaniel stay behind and Micah as well.

This is just so amazing.

From:

mhalachaiswords.livejournal.com

Thank you :) The threads are all weaving together, all little bits necessary to getting the final climax of the story to work. It's a facinating process, I'm finding.

The thing I mentioned about GoF, the missing link, will begin to appear next chapter. It's an exhilarating thing, making these pieces all fit.

Jason's role in the story will only increase in importance, as the trip approaches. Stay tuned!

From:

catherinecookmn.livejournal.com

Hoooo boy. And of course it's too late to cancel the trip, since Jean-Claude would lose face. (And I'm getting shivers imagining just how badly Anita's going to handle being without the people she loves most of all -- besides Harry -- in a very strange and dangerous environment.) I do give her points for not backhanding both JC and Richard.

Of course, Olaf could do everyone a favor and send a silver bullet meant for Anita straight into Christoff's heart shortly before one of Anita's bullets blows off the back of his head, but that's probably not going to happen. :-)

From:

catherinecookmn.livejournal.com

Oh, and what else?

-- Minor point: Harry's Muggle rellies are the "Dursleys". (The name comes from the town of Dursley, which is in England near the Welsh border.)

-- My Inevitable-verse Snape/Nathaniel fic is now AU! Waaahhhh! I must find a fainting couch to recover from the trauma.

mhalachai was here

FIC: Inevitable 37: Too Loud To Hear

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